Never Mess with Canada
by Bluejay Blaze
Summary: Canada is tired of being ignored and beaten up. He is the second largest country after all. *I'm new here, so please be gentle.*


Never Mess with Canada

He was the first one to the meeting. Normally that was England, but Canada hadn't been able to sleep lately and had come early rather than continue to lie in bed. Not that anyone would notice. America was the only one who ever seemed to see him- that is, unless he was being blamed for something America did.

Canada sighed. Sometimes he hated- okay, hate's a strong word. Sometimes he didn't really like having a twin brother.

One by one the other countries arrived. As usual, Russia sat on him. As usual, Canada was a little upset about this. Russia was the only country he couldn't have just picked up and moved. Why couldn't it have been Switzerland or France, or even America, who always sat on him?

"Russia," Canada gasped, "Would you kindly get the maple off me? Please? It's just, I can't focus on the meeting when I can barely breathe."

Russia turned to Latvia in confusion. "Did you hear something Comrade?"

"N-no Russia sir."

The day's topic was the BP oil spill. Actually, that had been the topic for several days now. None of the countries had successfully come up with a plan to halt the flow of oil from the damaged well. Not that anyone was trying very hard. Cuba was blaming America, who had built the well, while France was in another fist fight with England- because, you know, if the company was called _British_ Petroleum it was obviously _England's_ fault. Germany had a migraine from the last few days of such chaos, Italy wanted to plug the leak with radiatori and tomatoes, Sealand was trying to convince them he could do something about it if they would just acknowledge him and Spain was taking a siesta. To deal with this chaos all the Nordic countries had taken to drinking abnormal quantities of mead and were all currently tanked. The Baltic States were too nervous to say anything even if they had ideas. Japan and China were discussing something rapidly and drawing, while occasionally shoving South Korea away. And as usual, Russia just sat on Canada and enjoyed the pandemonium.

When at long last a bathroom break was called, Canada sighed with relief. He got up as soon as Russia did and retreated to a corner. Standing through the rest of the meeting was preferable to being sat on again. Not that anyone would even notice him out of his seat.

"Why can't anyone ever see me?" Canada sighed. Kumajiro (Komajuro?) blinked up at him.

"Who?"

"I'm Canada." The northern nation sighed and dug his fingers into his skull. "You live in my house, eat my food and sleep in my bed. Geese and canoes, how hard is it to remember my name?"

The meeting soon resumed its previous chaos except now someone realized he was there. Well, not exactly. Cuba stomped over to Canada's corner and proceeded to lift him up by the collar. His black eyes (Seriously, why did he always pick a fight with larger nations? It never went well.) were narrowed in anger.

"So Ameri-jerk, where were we?" A tanned fist slammed into Canada's face. Not that it hurt physically, mind, but oh maple did it hurt his feelings. He'd had enough.

"I'm not America!" Canada shouted. The room fell silent. Everyone turned to stare. Cuba dropped Canada in shock.

"And just who are you aru?" China demanded, "Another little micro-nation come to play? Don't you think we have enough trouble with this brat aru?" He pointed at Sealand.

Canada had finally had it. China's question made him so angry his glasses cracked. In a related story, Guelph Ontario was suddenly visited by a freak storm. Canada dropped his polar bear (Kumanji?) and stalked over to the table. His normally calm eyes blazed.

"Could a micro-nation do this?" he demanded. With one sudden motion he grabbed the huge wooden table in one hand and lifted it over his head. England, whose house (and antique table) they were using, fainted.

All the other countries gaped. That table was enormous and solid oak; it weighed several hundred pounds. No country with fewer than two million square kilometers to their name could lift it so easily; everyone knew the strength of nation-people was based on the area they represented. Canada smirked as he saw Cuba's jaw drop. The little Caribbean country hadn't known who he was dealing with.

"Well you're built like a brick shit house." Australia was the first to get his voice back. "I've just got one question. Who the bloody Hell are you?"

"_Je suis_ Canada for the love of maple!" Canada put the table down and took a deep breath to compose himself. "And I'm tired of being ignored, thank you very much. I'm sorry for shouting and showing off like that, but I'm really tired of being sat on and mistaken for America. If it were someone other than Russia sitting on me I wouldn't mind of course, I could just move you, but Russia's awfully big. Sorry, I don't mean that as an insult. And American and I look nothing alike. My eyes are purple, not blue, and my hair's longer and wavier because I inherited France's."

"_C'est vrai_," France said with a grin, "Unfortunately for _l'Amerique_, Canada inherited more of my superior looks."

England, who was just waking up, grumbled. "He's my son too you stupid frog."

France looked like he was about to attack England again, but an iron hand on his shoulder stopped him. Canada wasn't in the mood to see his parents fight. Pain made France collapse with a whimper.

"Really," the northern country continued, "I'm quite tired of being ignored and mistaken for my little brother. I-"

"Little!" America glared. "I'm older than you!" Canada drew himself up to his full height and stared down at his sibling.

"Little brother," Canada said icily. A Timmins-style blizzard began to rage out the window. "I have five centimeters and three hundred thousand square kilometers on you."

America scratched his head. "Dude, what's that in inches?"

"Ignorant hoser," Canada muttered, facepalming. All the other countries glared at America. His arrogance and ignorance were _not_ helping. Canada continued his previous rant.

"I'm really sorry about this guys, but you never listen to me. I'm sick of just being my brother's shadow. You've driven me to drastic measures. I hope you'll forgive me for this, but I have to punish you for forgetting me so much."

Canada then proceeded to call upon the dark magic he had learned from England in his youth. Two ghostly shapes appeared. The first was a pair of maple leaf earmuffs, which Canada put on. The second shape was far more sinister. It was an androgynous teenage boy wearing hipster sunglasses and baggy clothes. After a second of international confusion the apparition opened its mouth and began to… well, it wasn't quite singing, but that was the best word for it.

"Baby, baby, baby, ooooh!"

Within seconds the other countries were all begging for mercy. Canada let them suffer for a minute before banishing both of his conjurations. He smiled apologetically.

"Sorry about that. For what it's worth, I can't stand him either. No hard feelings, eh?"

The other countries quickly assured Canada there were no hard feelings. The northern nation smiled gratefully and sat down. Throughout the rest of the meeting the other countries were unusually well behaved. They even managed to work together long enough to come up with a plan to stop the oil spill. The only downside was that everyone but Russia kept sneaking looks at Canada when they thought he wasn't looking.

Once the meeting was over Canada left with his brother. America had an aura of mixed awe and jealousy as they walked to their rooms.

"Dude, why did you never tell me you were so tough? You're totally the best sidekick ever! Why did you never back me up with your super strong awesomeness? And how come you can use magic and I can't?"

"Two reasons. First, I don't always agree with you America. You're my brother and I love you, but you're also an idiot sometimes. Second, I have three words for you: Salem witch trials. You killed your magic."

America stopped in his tracks, stunned. He'd never heard so many accusations from his soft-spoken brother, and directed at him no less. "Dude…" He didn't know the words for what he wanted to express. America wasn't used to trying to be the thoughtful one. But that was okay, because Canada was.

"It's okay, I get it. Goodnight America."

"Goodnight Canada. See you in the morning."

The North American brothers went to their rooms and got ready for bed. As he fell asleep, Canada was smiling. It had been a long time since he'd stood up for himself. It felt good. He was sorry for scaring the others, but since he hadn't hurt anyone it would be okay. Canada snuggled his polar bear and curled up beneath his red and white sheets.

"Goodnight Kumajiro."

"Goodnight Canada."

The next day Canada hummed as he walked to the meeting. He got there before any other countries, sat down and sipped his double-double while he waited for everyone to show up. Much to his surprise Italy was next. The bubbly European nation waved and ran over to sit next to Canada.

"So Mr. Canada, do you like pasta? How about pizza?"

Canada smiled. "Of course I like pasta. As for pizza, you may have invented it, but I perfected it. Come visit me in Toronto sometime and I'll show you."


End file.
